by Jackie Weger
In silence, I listened, realizing he had a need for me to know of his prior marriage so it would not stand between us. My heart swelled with the knowledge he trusted me with his deepest thoughts.
His voice was steady, unemotional as he continued, “Our union wasn’t what I hoped. I had always believed marriage to be a lifelong commitment filled with unconditional love and reasonable access to my wife’s bedroom. I gave her the wedding of her dreams.
“She stood at the altar in all her glory. Dressed in a burnished ivory gown and a laced veil that fell to her ankles. She carried a calla lily bouquet.” He gave a short laugh. “Before our wedding, I thought it so sweet that she talked of nothing else but our day. Her eyes sparkled when she described the upcoming event. I mistakenly thought it was because she was excited to marry me, but I was wrong. Later, I realized that it was the event itself that filled her with joy.
“Her elation vanished the moment we were behind closed doors as man and wife. She stiffened at my touch and remained so deadly still. She cried for hours afterward. In the morning light, she once more became the charming, engaging woman I fell in love with, but there was a change. She refused to share her bed with me again.”
Anguish crossed his face at the remembrance. “I gave her time. I was gentle and caring, believing things would change between us…that she would want me. She didn’t. Never did.” He scoffed. “You know what’s funny? People believe I was so courageous for joining the Canadian Air Force and then ours when the U.S. entered the war. By God, I even received a purple heart. If they had only known that it had been Moria who suggested I join up…on our honeymoon. My wife couldn’t stand to be around me.”
Matt and I had talked a great deal about his time in the war. I knew all about his training to be a gunner, that he had been posted to Marske-by-the-Sea, Redcar Yorkshire, and that Moria had left England without saying goodbye in person. He had received a letter stating her heart was broken and to forgive her for being a coward.
“To the world,” he continued, “she must have seemed the perfect wife. She wrote me every day, and after I was wounded, she was there for me when I disembarked the USS Edgar. She oversaw my care, but behind closed doors, our marriage was nothing more than an empty shell. I had always considered myself a reasonable, sane man. I didn’t ask for much, a loving wife and the promise of children. I asked for a divorce. Moria was quite vehement that she would never give me one. Then I discovered she was having an affair…”
There was such pain in his voice. Moria had hurt him deeply.
I reached up and caressed his cheek and then kissed him. A long passionate kiss. “I’m not Moria.”
He kissed me back hard. “No, you’re not.”
Wrapped in his arms, I responded to his need and met it with my own.
After that, sex was addictive. I felt alive and reveled in the fact I was in my lover’s arms. I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with Matt all day and night, but Matt insisted on showing me all around Charleston. He took me for a walk along the Battery, a carriage ride through the grand historical homes, and out to the gardens of Magnolia Plantation. We strolled down King Street and Meeting Street, shopped, and ate at the best restaurants.
Yet my every thought anticipated what the night would bring.
Matt seemed caught in the same spell. I had never seen him so relaxed and happy. He seemed intent on giving me my heart’s desire. Yet I wanted for nothing but him.
I tried to tell him, but he took great joy in buying me things. My new husband bought me a lovely strand of pearls as a wedding gift at Goddard’s down along the harbor. Then that night, Matt surprised me with a white gold diamond engagement ring. So lovely. It had a single diamond surrounded by six smaller ones.
“You, my darling, deserve this and more.”
The ring was lovely, much more than I’d expected, for I expected nothing. I felt like a princess. He had spent a great deal in buying me a new wardrobe. When I expressed my reluctance, he assured me he could afford it. I had even tried to give him the money I had saved when working for Ginny Rose.
I had kept it in a mason jar behind the canned beets. It was the safest place at Goldie’s. No one ever ate beets.
Matt seemed touched by my offer. He held the money for a moment, and then placed it back into my hands, holding them in his. “You are my wife. Money isn’t something for you to worry about anymore.”
I smiled and did not say anything, aware now of a stab of panic. His words had been meant to comfort me. Instead, the real world was creeping back into ours. Once outside, I would be Mrs. Matthew Pritchard.
His world offered me security. Matt had already told me that I wouldn’t have to work. I had responded that I liked to work. In turn, he told me that I would be too busy keeping up with the house.
An uneasy queasiness surged that couldn’t be controlled. Soon, I would have to face the reality of my marriage to a Pritchard. I had only brief glimpses of that life at Ginny Rose’s, but I understood quite clearly I was about to lose the freedom I had being Cady Blue Reeves.
There were rules to follow. Etiquette, Ginny Rose called it. I would have to know when to stand or sit, what silverware to use during a dinner, and how to sip from my glass. Those rules didn’t bother me like the social events I would have to attend.
I didn’t share my fears with Matt. I didn’t want to disappoint him.
The day before we were to return, the phone woke us from a sound sleep. I could hear the other end. There was a problem at the Pride. Twenty-three chickens had died overnight.
Easing out of bed, Matt frowned. He wasn’t happy. He had our entire day planned, and it seemed the problem wasn’t one to easily dismiss.
“I’m sorry, darling,” he said. “Give me an hour.”
“Of course. I’ll take my time getting ready.”
I chose a navy-blue pinup dress with a white bodice and Bolero jacket. I fashioned my hair to work with the matching bell hat I had bought. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I frowned. Something was missing.
Digging through my vanity case, I found what I was looking for: the brooch I had found in the mud. No one had ever claimed it. It was too beautiful not to wear. Matt had never mentioned it again after that dreadful day.
Yet, I was nervous to wear it. Would Matt think it was in bad taste to wear it? I had nothing to worry about. He didn’t notice it when I walked back into the room.
In the corner, a breakfast tray had been brought up. Matt had a coffee cup on the table. He was still on the phone.
Placing his hand over the receiver, he asked, “It’s going to take a little longer. I have to make sure that they take care of this the right way.”
“How bad is it?”
“Not anything we haven’t seen before, but I don’t want it to spread. I need to talk to Dave.”
I thought for a moment. “Would you mind if I go shopping? I haven’t gotten Dickie or Goldie anything.”
“If you want.” He nodded. “Will you be back for lunch?”
“Yes. I’m sure it won’t take me long.”
The sun was bright with the promise of a hot day. Sweat ran down my back by the time I had bought Dickie a model airplane, a F4U Corsair, at the market and Goldie a sun hat. Despite the heat, I was determined to make one more purchase.
I had taken great care in my appearance, but I felt my hair droop under the humidity. My face needed more powder and my lips, lipstick. It did little to dampen my spirits. I had decided I was going to buy my husband a wedding gift.
There was a pair of gold black onyx cufflinks I glimpsed at Goddard’s. I had wanted to buy him a watch, but he had his father’s. Moreover, I knew that Moria had bought him a watch for their wedding. I had overheard Dodie talking about it once to Ginny Rose.
I paused outside Goddard’s Jewelry Store. I double checked to ensure I had my savings in my purse. I realized that Matt wanted me to keep it to spend on myself, but it gave me pleasure to know I could give him a present.
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br /> The bell on the door rang when I walked into the quaint shop. A short stout woman greeted me with a broad smile. She wore a black dress with her gray hair pulled back in a bun.
“May I help you?”
“I’m looking for a wedding present for my husband. I was in here the other day with him and saw a pair of cufflinks I thought he would like.”
“Of course, my dear,” she said. “I’m Irene Goddard. Let’s see what we have.”
She walked to the far side of the display case and pulled out a tray. “Do you know what you are looking for?”
I pointed to the pair I wanted. She handed them to me. While looking at them, a man entered the room.
“Why, Mrs. Pritchard, it is nice to see you again. I hope you were pleased with your husband’s selection.”
I smiled at the man who had waited on us. “Perfectly, Mr. Elliott. I love them. I’m here to pick out something for Matt…” My voice faded, looking back at the woman who was staring at me strangely. “Is something the matter?”
Mrs. Goddard reached over and touched my brooch. “Where did you get this?”
Instantly, I regretted wearing the brooch. I was taken aback by her accusatory tone and couldn’t find my voice. I took a step back and covered it with my hand. “It’s mine.”
She grimaced. “Look at it, Randal. Don’t you recognize it? It has to be the same.”
Mr. Elliott frowned, but did as she suggested. He held out his hand. “Do you mind if I take a closer look at your brooch, Mrs. Pritchard?”
I refused to move. The bells began in the distance. “I don’t understand.”
“I apologize, Mrs. Pritchard,” Mrs. Goddard said. “The brooch looks like a design my husband worked on for eight months. It was one of a kind. I swear that’s it.”
The bells sounded louder. Wringing my hands, I hesitated, fighting back the urge to run.
Through the million thoughts racing in my mind, the memory of picking it up out of the mud emerged. Then, Alfie’s face flashed before me. A startling sensation overwhelmed me. Perhaps they could help me find the owner and the answer to whether or not it had anything to do with his disappearance.
A name might help poor Helen Walker discover what had happened to her son. That would be important. I had visions of the woman still camped out on Goldie’s land. Her face had aged ten years. She lived off the goodness of Goldie. Yet her spirit was undaunted in the belief her son would return, and she would be there waiting for him.
“I found this piece of jewelry, but I reported it to the sheriff in my county. He didn’t seem to think that it was worth much. Moreover, no one claimed it,” I managed to say. “If it is the piece that you believe, how did it become lost on a hunting trail in the mountains? Who did you make it for?”
“I don’t have any idea about how it got lost, but I would know that piece anywhere,” Mrs. Goddard insisted. “May I see it?”
Obediently, I unpinned it and handed it to her. She squinted at it in the light. “Wait here a moment.”
I wanted to reach out and take it back. Instead, I gave Mr. Elliott a small smile and waited. He continued with wrapping the cufflinks. Mrs. Goddard returned by the time he had put my gift in a bag.
She laid out sketches and a copy of the receipt. There was no doubt it was the same brooch. I glanced at the name on the receipt, Mable Ann Adams.
The name meant nothing to me. There was no Adams I knew of that lived in Oak Flatt.
I shook my head. “I don’t know her.”
Mrs. Goddard frowned and handed back the brooch. “The grips have been bent and need to be fixed or you will lose the diamonds. Take care with it. It’s an expensive piece of jewelry.”
Fixing the brooch back on my jacket, I took my purchase and turned to leave. Before I opened the door, I glanced back over my shoulder. “Why don’t you write the lady and tell her the circumstance. If she feels this is her brooch, she can write me. You have my address?”
Mrs. Goddard nodded. “Of course.”
I saw that she was pleased. I was as well. I had a name to give Sheriff Brawner.
By the time I reached the hotel, I had convinced myself that the information would help discover what had happen to Alfie. I was excited as I opened the door to our room only to be startled by the discovery of our packed bags sitting in front of me.
“Matt,” I called out as I set my bags on the bed.
“I’m in here, darling.”
He walked out of the bathroom and patted his face with a towel. He had been shaving. He wore only his trousers. “I’m afraid I have bad news.” He moved to me and kissed me lightly. “We have to leave a little early.”
“When?”
“As soon as I dress.”
I stared at him, certain that disappointment showed in my expression. I thought I had one more day before I had to share him with the world. One more day before I truly became a Pritchard.
“I’m sorry, Cady, but Mother called. I don’t think Dave is telling me everything. She thinks the situation at the Pride is much worse than he’s letting on.”
I recognized his great concern for his business. With a small smile, I said, “It’s fine. But I have…” I said rather awkwardly. “A present for you.” I picked up the bag from Goddard’s.
“It wasn’t necessary.” He smiled broadly. “I have you, which is more than enough.”
He took the bag from me, but his expression altered. He reached over to the brooch on my jacket’s collar. “Is this the brooch from the woods?”
“Yes, Sheriff Brawner told me it was mine because I found it. I thought it quite nice,” I answered. “But the strangest thing happened. When I went into Goddard’s, they recognized it—or think they did. They claim they designed it.”
“What?”
He’d asked with such force, I hesitated in my reply. I didn’t want him to become ill-tempered. “The Goddards said it was an expensive piece…and gave me the name of the woman who’d had them make it…Mable Ann Adams.”
Visible relief flooded his face. He took a step back. “They should have never questioned you. I will go—”
I shook my head. “No, it is fine. We have a name now…perhaps it can help.”
He pressed his lips together tightly. His right eyebrow rose. “What the devil do you mean?”
The answer seemed obvious to me, but perhaps I was naïve. I said, “It’s a distinct piece of jewelry. Someone lost it. One would think that they would miss it. How did they lose it? Where? Perhaps it was stolen. Do they have any suspects? Could it be the same person responsible for Alfie’s disappearance? At the worse, we can return the brooch to its rightful owner.”
Matt exhaled deeply. “Let me get ready. I want to get home before sundown.”
His sudden change in temperament bewildered me. I was learning I was still uncertain of myself. I watched him go back into the bathroom and lay my gift on the bed unopened.
Chapter 10
We arrived back in Oak Flatt before supper. Matt had driven fast and stopped only once. There had been little conversation. His worry rested with the Pride; mine was his mother.
“Mother said that dinner will be readied for us,” Matt said when we left.
The thought had made me anxious. I had never been to his house, which now would be my home. His comment had magnified my uneasiness.
Moreover, I had never met his mother. The closest we had come to meeting would have been a friendly hello if we’d encountered each other in town. She never paid me much mind. Now I was her daughter-in-law.
On the drive from Charleston, I had tried to nap but found no rest. I dreamed of Alfie lost in the woods. I tried to call to him, but he couldn’t hear me. I ran toward him but stumbled on a tree root along the creek bed. Looking up, I saw Moria. She stood by one of the old oaks with the brooch in her hand. Her mouth was moving but made no sound. I woke abruptly, trembling.
Concentrating on the road, Matt hadn’t noticed my anxiety. I was glad. I didn’t want to tell him I
was dreaming about his dead wife, nor the fact that an uneasiness had gripped me at the jewelry store. I wasn’t certain what it meant, but I couldn’t dismiss the nagging feeling that I was missing something.
I dismissed my concerns for more pressing issues. Matt had pulled into the driveway and drove along a winding road. The house couldn’t be seen from the road because it sat too far back, surrounded by a cover of trees and shrubs. I clutched my gloves when we pulled to a stop in front of the large Victorian house.
This was the moment I had dreaded.
The house was grand, not as grand as the large homes along the Battery in Charleston, but quite the largest in the county. The red brick three-story home trimmed in white had a turret in the front attached to a wraparound porch with white columns. The second floor had a balcony, and the third had a decorative face with an attic dormer and three fireplaces. Ivy tendrils crawled up to the top window.
I glanced at Matt. He was smiling. “We’re home.”
“You never told me how big it is,” I told him. “It’s only you and your mother living here?”
“And now you.” He squeezed my hand. “We will have to work on filling it with the pitter patter of little feet.”
He lifted my spirit. We had talked of having lots of children. I watched him round the car and open my door. He took my hand again.
We walked up the flight of steps together. He opened the door and pushed it back. Turning to me, he swept me in his arms and carried me over the threshold. I laughed.
He placed me down in the foyer. I kept my arms around his neck. Leaning upward, I kissed him.
“I see you have made it home.”
Pivoting on my heels, I turned to face a stone-faced woman. She advanced toward me with dignity and steel composure. Mrs. Pritchard was slimly built with light brown eyes and small narrow feet. Her hair was a mass of tight gray curls indicating a fresh permanent.
